


Love is Formative

by FlameShe



Series: Office AU [9]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3369902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlameShe/pseuds/FlameShe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His parents were the type of people that still held hands in their forties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is Formative

Morgan recalled late nights in the car (half asleep in the back seat, Lucina squished between him and an over excited Cynthia). At that age, he spent a lot of time watching his parents, eyes wide in amazement. The go-to babysitters. The reliable friends. The loving partners. The best-at-what-they-do. The parents that loved him as deeply as they loved each other. He remembered (hazily, warmly) how, even in the dark, he could make out his mother's fingers reaching for his father. Sometimes they rested on his arm, other times he met her halfway, his mother's hand disappearing as Frederick's encompassed hers. 

On one of these nights, Morgan had found himself reaching for Lucina's hand, bigger than his at the time (she was taller than him, too—Cynthia loved to tease him about it), and warm, warm, warm. Her hands were _always_ warm. Cynthia saw this and—with a jealous little huff—snatched up her sister's other hand. Lucina squeezed his back.

He thought they might have slept like that many nights, hands linked, with his mother and father in the front seat.

* * *

Over time their love fueled every little aspect of his life. Lucina noticed this; found it comforting. _You're always so happy_. He wasn't, of course, but he certainly tried his best to smile and admitted that it was hard not to, when you were surrounded by people that were, " _so, so incredibly full of love_." Lucina, blue eyes a little sad, told him that she was jealous and never to change. Morgan promised he wouldn't.

The promise shattered the night his mother got into an accident. " _It's Robin_ — _it's bad, Frederick, really bad,_ " Chrom's words were frightening, but Morgan felt something shift inside of him when his eyes fell to his father. He'd never seen him cry before that night and decided that he never wanted to again. He realized, while watching the light in his father's eyes flicker and dim, that he could lose anything. _Everything_. _Any_ of those he cherished. To something as insignificant as a man in his late twenties sending a text to his friend with only one hand curved around the wheel.

* * *

"What would you do," He'd started, fingers mindlessly playing with a lock of Lucina's hair. "If either of your parents passed away?" Morgan could feel her eyes on him; felt her take in a breath.

"Robin will wake up, Morgan... she's strong, stronger than anyone I know," He heard the silent _stronger than me_ , in Lucina's words. But she answered him (hesitantly, and in a voice so quiet he could barely hear her). " _I'd do anything to get them back_."

Morgan's toothy grin didn't stop the tears from coming. She ran her fingers through his hair as he brought an arm to his face; body shaking as he sobbed.

* * *

The day his mother woke up was the second time he'd watched his father cry. The tears didn't still, and he watched on as his mother murmured, "I'm right here, Freddy-bear, I'm okay," His father took her hands— _gently, so gently_ —and brought them to his face, brushing kisses over her knuckles. His mother had beamed over at him, eyes glistening.

"There's that smile I love so much," He hadn't noticed the curve of his lips, or the wetness warming his cheeks. The little piece of him that felt broken seemed less heavy and he hurried to his mother's side; pressed a kiss to her temple as they melted into a hug.

He'd decided then, wrapped in the arms of the parents whose love had shaped his entire being, that no matter what happened he'd keep smiling. 

* * *

Lucina's conviction was tested. In her father's fear, her mother's illness. (Cancer, like Aunt Emm, but they'd caught it, _they'd caught it_.) In the heavy cloud that hung over her family. She let Morgan hold her; the same way she'd held him when he feared his mother would not return to him. She drew strength from his smile, from his reassurance, and from his touch. It astounded her, as it always had—his kindness. She felt as though, just by knowing him, she'd become a brighter person. 

His hand was warm. Bigger than hers, now. She held it tightly, as though he were the only thing keeping her tethered to the ground. Lucina remembered a time when her fingers were longer than his; the chubby cheeked smile he'd given her. He'd been missing two front teeth. A smile slid over her lips at the memory and she felt him squeeze her hand as Cynthia called out.

"They said we can see her now, Luci, c'mon—"

"It's okay if you want to cry," He whispered it; squeezed her hand again. _There's that smile_.

"Thank you, Morgan," Lucina gathered what final strength she could from him—his gentle reassurance; the feeling of his palm pressed against hers—and stepped forward, taking Cynthia's extended hand. For a moment they stood like that, fingers laced together; hands linked like they'd been all those nights in the back seat of his parents' car. Her beam echoed his. Her mother would be just fine. Somehow... she was sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> They'd be the type of people that still held hands in their forties.


End file.
